In All Honesty
by Mytay
Summary: Follow-up to More Than Four Sides. After a painful but necessary conversation with his dad, Kurt follows through on his advice and braces himself for a similar talk with Finn, hoping that afterwards, both of them can move on for good.


**In All Honesty**

**By:** Mytay

**Rating:** T – mature themes from _Theatricality._

**Summary:** Follow-up to my other _Theatricality_ one-shot _More Than Four Sides _(it can be read without having read the story previous, though there is reference to it).

After a painful but necessary conversation with his dad, Kurt follows through on the advice given to him and braces himself for a similar talk with Finn, hoping that once everything is out in the open, both of them can move on for good.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor claim to own, anything Glee related in what follows.

**Note: **In trying to write some summer Glee fic, this particular story decided it had to be written first. I had to figure out how Kurt and Finn made amends, once and for all (because while dressing in the Red Shower Curtain of DOOM is all well and good (okay, it was awesome I'll admit :P), I needed some actual verbal acknowledgement of the issues) and thus, I wrote this.

I know this episode and its issues have been discussed/written about to death – but I needed to tie up some remaining loose ends to cure some writer's block for my other fic. So, I figured I'd share it in case there were people around who, like me, wanted some more conversation/closure about this on the show.

**Spoilers: **For those of you still catching up on your Glee watching, this fic contains spoilers all the way up to and including _Theatricality._

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Finn kind of liked the smell of engine grease and metal. He stared at a few of the car parts scattered about his temporary room, wondering whether it would be weird if he asked to incorporate them into his new bedroom, which would be done about the same time that school finished up. It was sort of a badass guy thing, right? To have random car bits strewn about your room? _Totally_ badass.

He was just thinking about trying to make some cool shelf display with these scattered bits of Ford trucks and Honda Civics (or whatever, because he didn't know enough about cars to really be able to tell), when there came a quick series of raps against his door.

He whipped around in his chair, tried to look studious as he bent over his homework that was splayed out – untouched – on his desk (Burt's old workbench), and turned on his computer. "Go ahead!"

But instead of Burt or his mom, it was Kurt, hovering uncertainly just outside the threshold.

"Dude, come in," Finn said with a kind smile.

Kurt flashed a quick, tentative one back as he stepped into the room. He left the door half open and stood straight-backed, but partially hidden behind a large, red tool chest almost as tall as he was. It sort of matched his Cheerio's uniform – which he was still wearing; it looked a little rumpled, like he'd been sleeping in it or something, which was probably what had happened. Kurt hadn't shown up for dinner – Burt had said that he'd come straight home from Cheerio's practise and crashed.

It was weird for Kurt not to take better care of his clothes, but then again, the Cheerio's did have free dry cleaning. What's more, it didn't surprise Finn that Kurt had been too tired to even think about changing – Sue Sylvester worked her cheerleaders harder than all the sports teams in the school. Combined. Times infinity.

Finn leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. "What's up?"

Kurt braced himself against the tool chest, pushing out from behind it. "Is that algebra – or the history paper?"

Finn blinked, glancing at his homework. "Uh, neither. I think it's the Tennyson essay for . . . English? Or maybe it was for history . . . I have to write about Tennyson for _somebody_ . . . "

"Hm." There was a real smile now. "You don't know what you're working on? Is this a roulette method to homework – pick a random assignment and hope that it corresponds to the correct class?"

Finn shrugged. "All right, so I was spacing out. It'll get done . . . eventually."

" 'Eventually' being three o'clock in the morning the night before." Kurt shook his head. "Well, at least I don't have to worry about the desk lamp keeping me up. Have fun and try to at least remember which teacher you're writing it for."

Finn tossed a pillow towards him, which Kurt caught without any trouble. He was grinning now, stepping further into the room and throwing the pillow back onto the bed.

"So, what'd you wanna talk to me about?"

Kurt's smile fell, his face going blank. Finn couldn't help but notice how he seemed to shrink into himself a little. It was kind of funny, but in making himself seem smaller, Finn realized Kurt had gotten taller – he figured he was at least three inches taller than he'd been at the beginning of the year, because when he did the slumped shoulder thing he looked about as tall as he'd been back then. _Huh_.

"Talk?"

"Well, yeah. Unless you just stopped by to say hi and make fun of me?"

Kurt didn't smile this time, though his lips quirked a little.

Finn waited, figuring that patience was the route to take with this. He and Kurt were pretty cool now, and he'd always liked the little (well, now not-so-little) gleek. Kurt was smart, but not, like, in an obvious nerdy way (except when it came to music and theatre, and when he was quoting things like _The Art of War_), and he was funny (when Finn managed to actually get his jokes). Finn had always wanted siblings (he'd called Puck his brother more than once and meant it – _right_, _not thinking about him_, because thinking about the ex-mohawk and the baby still hurt, though it got be a little less with each passing week). When he'd been teaching Kurt how to kick for the football tryout, it was exactly how he'd always imagined having a little brother would be . . . except for the biting sarcasm and Beyoncé. And the mad colour coordinating skills.

Once he'd waited what he figured was an appropriate amount of time, he pointed towards his barely-big-enough bed. "Man, take a seat."

Kurt hesitated for a second before walking cautiously to the unmade bed, sitting down on the end furthest from Finn. Finn didn't take this as a good sign. After a couple more minutes of silence, during which Finn drummed a nervous rhythm out on his thigh with his index fingers, Kurt stared at the floor, both legs and arms crossed, and he finally began to explain.

"I . . . I had this talk with my dad, a week back. About what happened that night in the basement."

Finn felt both his easy-going smile and mood completely disappear.

"Oh."

Kurt let out a small huff. "Yeah. I just felt the need to clarify some things because . . . he and I have never really withheld much from each other. Even when we do, the other one usually knows about it anyways, or figures it out pretty quickly so . . . point being, I told him everything. And he didn't hate me afterwards –"

"Uh, I don't know exactly what you're talking about," Finn cut in, not sure where all this was going. "But your dad could never hate you. I mean, I think you could murder half the town _Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ style, and the man would still call you his son. Thinking Burt could hate you is stupid."

Kurt's mouth quirked again. "I understand that now. But this isn't about my dad and me. We cleared things up quite nicely last week."

Finn nodded, then tilted his head as he recalled the cozy scene he had stumbled across. "Oh. Was that the day mom and I came back from mini-golf and you guys were passed out on the couch together?"

"Yes." Kurt flushed. "Anyway, my dad, he gave me some advice that I really didn't want to follow through on, but, he's right. Some things need to be said, need to be explained so . . . here it goes."

The other boy went quiet again. Finn figured that whatever this was, it was going to be not good and maybe really awkward. He wished Kurt wouldn't say anything, because things had been getting so much better lately. He didn't want to go back to weirdness around the dinner table, timing his morning routine so he could eat breakfast while Kurt was downstairs doing his last minute outfit touch-ups before school, and waiting for Kurt to leave on his own so he could hitch a ride with his mom instead of him. He liked the almost-step brother thing they had going on, and it would just suck so bad if it all went to hell once more.

"I set up our parents. I met your mother after a game, and she was really sweet and fun, appalling fashion sense aside – and totally my dad's type. And I, mistakenly, thought that if our parents were dating, you'd be forced to interact with me more and maybe . . ." Kurt exhaled shakily, rubbing his upper arms. "Wait, I'm telling this in the wrong order."

"You set up our parents?" Finn was confused. Because the way it had always seemed to him, it had been some random chance meeting at a Parent's Night, and while Kurt had been happy about it – why was this a bad thing?

Kurt curled his hands into fists. "I'm going to say something, and you need to keep quiet until I've finished."

Finn nodded though Kurt wasn't even looking in his direction. He realized his own leg was bouncing nervously, but he couldn't stop it – he had to fidget-out his anxiety.

"I . . . I'm sorry for this," Kurt said, and his voice was trembling. "You were right, that night – you were right about me."

Finn tried to recall what he'd said to the other boy that could possibly be considered _right_. His mind immediately jumped to the terrible words he'd used, but obviously that couldn't be it.

"I've had this silly . . . infatuation with you, for a long while. Practically since we started high school together."

Finn felt his face freeze up and his leg stopped jiggling. A blind panic seized him, and he just barely kept himself from pushing his chair further back from Kurt. It seemed that Kurt could tell, without looking, that Finn was reacting badly.

"You can freak out if you want, but just wait until I'm done. This lo – these _feelings_ spiralled out of control this year, and I've done some fairly questionable things to try and . . . well, this thing with our parents was, without a doubt, the worst and stupidest plan ever. And it was very, very wrong of me, to hem you in like that."

Finn was confused and on the verge of having that freak out, because he had a rough idea that Kurt found him . . . attractive and stuff – maybe even that he had a little man-crush or something – but for the boy to admit to all but _loving_ him for almost two years . . . _holy crap_.

Suddenly, Finn wasn't sure how to look at Kurt anymore. He tried to tell himself that this was his friend – his probably soon-to-be-step-brother – but he just felt uncomfortable and uneasy now. He really didn't want to be. It made him feel a little guilty, because Kurt couldn't help crushing on him, and he seemed to really _not_ want to, just like Finn had at times wished he could be immune to the insane, but somehow charming, Rachel Berry.

He wanted to be nice and say, '_It's okay, Kurt – thanks for being honest_,' but it wasn't okay, and he wished Kurt had never told him. Now he was facing an ugly truth: maybe those horrible words that he'd thrown in Kurt's face a week back might've come from somewhere _real_ inside of him. They might not have been the result of the stress of an out-of-nowhere change of address and living in close quarters with a man who might end up being his step-dad. Because now, now he was also feeling . . . a bit of grossed-outness.

And the screwed-upness of Kurt's plan to match up their parents so he could . . . what? Seduce him? Try and make him gay? _God_.

"My dad told me the only way to really clear the air would be to tell you everything. And he's right. The only way I'm going to get over you, over this, is if I come clean and we start from scratch. And you deserve the truth . . ." Kurt took in a deep breath. "I still . . . still sort of like you, in that way, Finn, but I swear it's to a substantially lesser degree and it's been getting easier to let you go. And . . . I really, really, want us to be friends. Because you are a good friend to me, all things considered."

Finally, Kurt raised his head to meet Finn's eyes – and flinched. Finn wasn't sure what kind of look he had on his face, but whatever it was had Kurt's knuckles whitening and his breath quickening.

"I . . . I can leave, if that would be easier for you," Kurt said softly. His eyes were huge in his face, and he was paler than ever (which was freaky – he was practically matching the whites of his eyes).

Finn found himself about to nod, but made it a shake of the head instead. "No, no. Just . . ." He breathed out slowly. "Just gimmie a minute."

Kurt's mouth shut, and he lowered his eyes again. Finn kept on taking in deep, calming breaths. _Okay_. So, a guy had (and_ still did_ have) a serious crush on him. Was that really so bad? It was a little out of his comfort zone, he had to admit, but it wasn't end of the world type stuff. They had separate rooms now, so it wasn't that big of a deal. It hadn't really bothered him at all, knowing that Kurt was gay, before the whole moving-in thing.

But . . . he remembered Kurt eying him when he slipped out of the bathroom, and remembered the way the other boy's breath would quicken if they brushed by each other on the way up the stairs for dinner.

He couldn't help it – he let out the barest shudder.

And Kurt noticed.

He stood up before Finn could even open his mouth to object. "I'll go. Don't say a word – we'll act normal in front of Carole and my dad, but other than that, you can pretend I don't exist. It's fine –"

And he was marching past, eyes only for the door. Finn reached out and grabbed his arm. Kurt tugged once, and then looked pointedly down at him.

"Let go."

"No."

"Finn –"

"_No_. Now sit back down and _give me a minute_."

Kurt clenched his jaw, his voice coming out past gritted teeth. "If this is going to turn into some sort of condescending, well-intentioned speech about how gay is fine as long as you don't have to deal with –"

"Damnit, Kurt – I'm trying, okay? But you can't expect me to deal with this in like, a second. Don't leave – I don't hate you, I don't think you're a freak – well, except for that weird-ass double-jointed thing you can do – and yeah . . . please. Give me some processing time here."

Kurt took a half step toward the door and then paused for a moment. With a frustrated sound, he turned back around and dropped onto the bed. His bangs fell across his eyebrows and he pushed them back in disgust, but Finn saw how his fingers shook slightly.

Finn resumed his thinking. At the end of the day, Kurt was a good guy, and even though he'd been creepy manipulative for the past while, he really believed that Kurt would never try anything like this again. Finn remembered the scared, hurt look on the boy's face when they decided to break up their parents. Things had pretty much backfired on him then. And when things finally seemed like they were going his way, with Finn moving in, that thing in the basement happened. So, Finn figured that Kurt had pretty much paid, in spades, for a lot of his mistakes, including by way of this craptastic conversation, which had Kurt looking like he'd rather be wearing one of Rachel's argyle sweaters than be in any room with Finn right now.

Finn took a minute to consider the fact that he didn't really get his own analogy – _he_ liked Rachel's sweaters. But he knew Kurt got a bit cross-eyed whenever he saw them. _Huh_. _Whatever._

"I . . . forgive you for the whole, uh, matchmaking the parents, Kurt – I mean, it was damn scary, make no mistake, but, people do crazy things when they have strong . . . feelings for someone. I mean, I sang _Jessie's Girl_ to Rachel in front of the whole glee club."

"I sang _A House is Not a Home_ to you in front of them," Kurt pointed out, his cheeks reddening.

Finn stared. "You did? I mean – that was for me?"

Kurt threw his hands up in the air, tossing his head back. "Oh my God. Even _Puck_ noticed I was singing to you! Maybe I should've sung _I Honestly Love You_ like I originally planned during that ballad assignment. And pointed at you repeatedly. Wearing an 'I Love Finn' T-shirt."

Finn laughed at that, and Kurt turned even redder, but grinned boyishly. Finn purposely didn't say anything about the 'love' part, because Kurt had said he was past that, and Finn wasn't about to bring it up again.

But he was going to be as truthful as he could be. And this was probably going to hurt, but Kurt had been completely honest with him, and Finn wasn't going allow himself anything less.

"Um, I do understand why you did it, Kurt, but . . . I'm still uncomfortable with the whole . . . crush thing."

Kurt didn't flinch, but his smile turned into something bitter and sad. "I figured as much."

"It's just that . . . I'm really not into guys. Like _at all_. And the idea of it kinda creeps me out a little when I think about it. I guess it's something I'll have to work on."

Kurt had been nodding up until that last bit. He blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I said I'll to have to work on being okay with it." Finn was proud of how firm and confident he sounded – he didn't really feel it, just yet. "It looks like our parents are pretty much going to stick together forever – which means we'll be stuck together too. And some day, you're going to bring home a boyfriend."

Kurt kept right on blinking. "But, with me and you –"

Finn shrugged. "It'll be awkward, and uh, I can't promise that I won't screw up, and say or do something stupid –"

"That's fine – I can't promise that either," Kurt was quick to break in.

"But when you bring whatever guy home, I'll be okay with it, by then, hopefully. And ready to put the fear of God in him," Finn finished off with a cheesy grin.

Kurt's smile returned with a vengeance. "We'll see about that last part – I don't need you _and_ my father scaring off potential suitors."

"I wasn't going to threaten him or anything . . . maybe I'll answer the door in my Gaga outfit – is that a good compromise?" After all, he'd given himself a real good scare when he looked in the mirror the first time.

Kurt burst out laughing. "You know, that was quite possibly the most frightening thing I'd ever seen in my life – you are not meant for Gaga, I have to say. And while the gesture was – and still is – greatly appreciated, I'm dying to know . . . how the hell did you make it?"

"My mom," Finn said ruefully. "I told her everything . . . but she already knew. I guess your dad already explained it all. So we came up with the idea together. And then she went to Sheets-N-Things and got the reddest, ugliest shower curtain there. Well, more like two of them, because uh, yeah, I'm tall."

Kurt pursed his lips. "That's very cool. Your mom is brilliant. I should collaborate with her on some of my other Gaga ideas . . . and definitely for my Halloween costume."

There was silence for a bit, of a semi-comfortable kind. Finn stood up during the break in conversation, stretching his arms out. "Okay. I know things are going to be a bit weird for a while. But uh, you do know that I'm going to try, right?"

Kurt stood as well. "I know. You're a good guy Finn. I'm sorry for . . . everything."

Finn shrugged again. "I already told you, I forgave you for the parent thing. Don't apologize for being you. For your feelings."

Kurt gave him a half smile. "I don't apologize for being me. And I never will. But I am sorry that I've been so selfish about my feelings and that I didn't consider the effect all my scheming would have on others – you and my dad especially."

Finn stuck out his hand. "Enough of this. There's way too much guilt going around right now. So, lets just call it even, and from now on, we're friends again – for real, no secrets."

"No secrets," Kurt agreed, and put his hand tentatively in Finn's.

Finn shook it twice before squeezing once and letting go. Kurt was smiling genuinely again. "So, that Tennyson essay? It's for Mrs. Chadworth's lit class. I have her too."

Finn smacked his own forehead. "Oh yeah! Damn it, I thought we were studying _The Charge of the Light Brigade_ in history for some reason."

"Well, it is based on a battle fought during the Crimean War, which we studied a bit about to understand the context – maybe that's why you got confused."

"Probably," Finn said, turning to sit back down and figure this Tennyson dude out. So far, he understood that the poem was about some random suicide run, that there was a mistake made, but what the hell_ that_ meant, and what he was suppose to write about was completely lost on him.

Kurt went to the door, but stopped just short of leaving. "Did you need some help?"

"Nah, I've got it all in my notes here . . . or not. Maybe I was sick that day?"

Kurt laughed quietly. "Right. Okay. I'll help with the Tennyson essay – but give me a minute to change, and to grab my homework too – I haven't touched anything all night, since all I've been doing is sleeping off Cheerio's practise and having emotionally draining conversations."

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

It was almost one o'clock in the morning. Burt had been reclined in his favourite armchair, avidly reading this new post-apocalyptic thriller that Carole had recommended, and in the midst of a yawn he'd caught a glimpse of the time. He had to be up in about five hours and it was his turn to make breakfast. Well, it was _always_ his turn to make breakfast. He couldn't cook much in the way of food, but he made some pretty awesome pancakes and omelettes. And bacon. Even his anti-grease-and-carb son couldn't pass up one of his breakfast buffets.

He stretched as he stood, flicking off the light with one reaching arm, and began to make his way to bed. He passed by Finn's bedroom on the way to his own and, hearing Kurt's voice, paused at the partially opened door.

"You almost done with that essay, Finn? Need some proofing?"

"No, I got it – thanks a lot, there's no way I would've got this done without you."

"You would have, just not before three o'clock in the morning."

"Maybe closer to four. Are you _still_ working on those equations?"

"I'm on my last one. Why it's such a fuss to find a couple of points on a line going nowhere is beyond me, but I'm doing it."

"Hey, there's math everywhere. It's used for like, everything."

"Wonderful. I don't suppose you understand this anymore than I do?"

"No, but I can appreciate it. And I kinda like algebra. I'm no good at trig and stuff, but I'm pretty okay with slope and the like."

"Seriously? But . . . you suck at math. You cheat off of _Brittany_."

"Only when I haven't studied! Or when it's trig."

" . . . Okay then. Well, I'm calling it a night – this particular line is just going to have to go without points. I'll have to forgo the moisturizing tonight – if I get to bed any later, I'm going to have horrifying bags under my eyes. And with my skin tone, I'll end up looking like a corpse."

"Hey, that's sorta cool."

Burt raised a hand to smother his chuckles as a chilly silence descended, and Finn quickly backtracked – most likely under the weight of one Kurt's well-practised death glares.

"I mean, uh, yeah, uh, have a good night, Kurt. I'm sure you'll look like a total live person tomorrow, and uh, great too."

"Enough with your wild compliments, you'll make me blush."

Burt felt his smile fall. For some reason, this time the silence was . . . tense. He edged a little closer, not able to see much other than a sliver of Finn, unmoving at his desk, Kurt's hand on his upper arm. That hand disappeared suddenly.

"Sorry, Finn – I didn't mean to, it wasn't –"

"No, no, sorry, for –"

"It's fine, Finn, _it's fine_. It'll be okay. Really." Kurt's tone was warm, though Burt knew his son well enough to know when he was putting up a front. "I'm going to bed now. Good night."

"Yeah. Yeah, good night."

Burt backed away quickly and watched as Kurt stepped out of Finn's room, closing the door behind him. His kid just stood there for a second. Burt shifted, making a floorboard creak. Kurt jumped, the hand that wasn't grasping his schoolbooks going to his chest, letting out a whispered exclamation, "Holy – Dad! God, you scared me!"

"Sorry, didn't mean to," he said, reaching out to grasp Kurt's shoulder. "I feel like a broken record saying this but . . . you okay, kiddo?"

Kurt covered the hand grasping his shoulder with one of his own. "Yeah, dad. I'm not great, but I'm okay. Don't worry." Burt looked straight into Kurt's eyes. They were shining wetly but they were bright and blue as ever. His son smiled at him. "Followed your advice. I'm glad that I did. It was worth it. I think Finn and I are going to be fine."

Burt nodded. "Right. That's good to know. You should really head to bed though – I know you, you're going to be a total bear tomorrow. Take after me in that."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I promise not to dump pancakes on you for playing the radio too loud, like I did the last time I got under five hours of sleep."

"You better not. I'll dump maple syrup in your hair if you do."

Kurt's hand flew off of his and straight to his brown locks. "That's not funny, dad."

"Yeah, it is." He grinned, ruffling that same hair despite Kurt's protests. "Now, get going."

Kurt gave him a playful glare and headed off towards his basement bedroom.

Burt waited until the basement door was shut and his son's steps had faded as he reached the bottom of his stairs. Then, "Finn, you wanna come out here?"

The door that had cracked open as he and Kurt had been talking now opened all the way. Finn stood there, hands shoved in his pockets. "Sorry, Burt, I –"

Burt held up a hand. "Never mind the eavesdropping. I know what you and Kurt must've been talking about earlier. And there's something I want to say too."

Finn swallowed hard, but nodded.

Burt gave him a small smile. "Thank you, for listening to Kurt. I know you're going to try your best to make things okay with you two. Your mom showed me this picture of you in this red dress thing and Kurt mentioned that you'd done something amazing to make up for . . . well, you get what I'm saying."

Finn shrugged, blushing and scratching at the back of his head at the mention of the shiny red monstrosity, but he smiled back.

"Look, I can't and won't take anything back that I said in that basement to you, Finn, except for the whole kicking you out bit, but obviously we've dealt with that. I want you to know that I do get where you were coming from. I get it, because like I said, I was you as a teenager – a whole hell of a lot worse, and you're already way ahead of where I was at sixteen. So, you, kid, you're in my good books. And I know you'll do your best to stay there."

The boy nodded again, still smiling. "Thanks, Burt. I, uh, don't know what to say."

" 'Good night' would be a start." Burt crossed his arms. "It's way past when you should be sleeping. I don't want to tell you what to do, but I can strongly _suggest_ you head to bed now. Between you being a walking zombie, and Kurt ready to claw anyone and everyone's eyes out, tomorrow morning is sure going to be interesting."

Finn laughed a bit. "Good night, Burt."

"Good night, Finn."

Burt turned, hearing the door shutting, and walked to his bedroom, trying to be quiet as possible as Carole shifted restlessly in bed. He slid under the covers, warm and snug. The faint, fresh smell of Carole's hair spread across the pillow hit him first, then an undertone of that new face cream thing Kurt had bought her. His eyes began to flutter shut.

"You're up late," she mumbled, turning towards him and tucking her head against his shoulder.

"Yeah," he said, eyes closed. "Just . . . talking with Finn and Kurt."

"They okay?" she sighed out.

"Yeah – they're going to be great, I think. We've got ourselves a couple of real good boys."

He felt her smile against his thin nightshirt. "_I've_ got myself three real good boys. Now get some sleep, sweetheart – I'm kicking your butt out of bed to make us breakfast at six no matter how grumpy you are from lack of sleep."

He grinned to himself. "Me? Just wait till you see Finn and Kurt. Bring a camera to the kitchen tomorrow – it promises to be a prime photo opportunity."

"Doesn't Kurt have a rule about cameras before noon?"

"Just don't let him see it."

"Mean – I'm telling him you said that."

"That's not funny, Carole." His eyes opened wide in the darkness. "He'll kill me. The mood he'll be in tomorrow, he'll dump the whole breakfast table on me. Maybe try and beat me to death with the frying pan."

"Good thing I'll have the camera ready then. Like you said, prime photo opportunity."

"You are evil, woman."

"Good night, Burt."

He lifted an arm to wrap around her shoulders and she fell right back asleep almost instantly. He relaxed into his mattress. It was strange, and it didn't make any sense at all to his drowsy mind, but Burt could swear he could feel how _full_ his house was, for the first time since Carole and Finn had moved in. And he liked it. A lot.

He fell asleep with a content smile on his face.

One room over, and another room down, Finn and Kurt did the same.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

**Author's Note: **This turned out longer than I expected it to be.

I'm not certain that it rings entirely true, and after writing strictly from Burt and Kurt's POV, Finn was new and challenging for me . . . hopefully it sounds like something honest, that doesn't cast blame or take sides – that's what I was going for. And now that Finn and Kurt are somewhat fixed, I'll see if I can manage to finish my other fic.

Anyways, as always, thank you so much for reading. Reviews and critiques are welcome, and much appreciated. You all have been so great to me, and I'm very grateful!

And on a completely unrelated note: Happy Canada Day, fellow Canadians!


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